


found family and perfection in unity

by sam_suffers (orphan_account)



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sam_suffers
Summary: tweek's parents are arrested and he finds out that he has been using, his entire life.they deal with the aftermath.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 100





	found family and perfection in unity

**Author's Note:**

> i will admit that this is not my best work but i really tried, my boyfriend suggested that i write about tweek being an actor and lets just say,, i made it miserable. 
> 
> (loooovvveeeeeee youuuuuuu,, sorry for making it angsty babe)

On 21st February XXXX, Tweek’s parents were both arrested on charges of drug possession, distribution, illegally drugging others and child abuse.

The crack den next to Kenny’s house had finally been busted by the police, after they finally got off of their asses and did something other than persecuting minorities for sport - Kenny had texted Tweek when it happened, warning him that it might effect him, which confused Tweek. Why on earth would a drug den on the other side of town effect him?

At the time, he had inferred this as Kenny knowing that the crack heads had some vendetta against Tweek and that if they escaped police custody, they’d come and attack him, which caused him to be incredibly paranoid for the next few days; he didn’t sleep or leave his room and told Craig that he was sick and that it was highly infectious so don’t visit him. This was to avoid the heart palpitations that would definitely come with any knocks on the door.

And then there was a knock at the door, the front door. Tweek was the only one home, his parents were due home from the shop in a few minutes but they both had keys so it was unlikely that they both had forgotten them. He didn’t answer, backed up into the corner of his room with a knife, staying vigilant with thoughts of violent druggies in his head. He’d seen them before, everyone in South Park had. Some were missing teeth or had obvious violent scaring - They were scary to look at and even scarier to talk to, they were always a minute away from attacking you.

Tweek didn’t answer the door.

“Open up, it’s the police!” sounded through a microphone.

Cautiously he checked through his window and indeed, outside was a squadron of police cars.

_oh god oh fuck_

He put down the knife and answered the door, more afraid of the consequences of not doing so than doing so. What had he done? Where they going to beat him up and put him in prison where he’d be passed round like a joint?!

He was a drug addict. That’s what they’d told him - When the drug den had been raided, the police had found a list of “clients”, his parents were top of the list, buying the most and the most frequently.

It hadn’t made any sense at all.

Until it did.

_It was in the coffee._

He didn’t have ADHD, he was a fucking addict. A dirty dirty drug addict. Tweek sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and had a panic attack, probably the worst one of his life, it was long and it was awful, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he could only feel the sensation of blood in his veins throbbing. His heart and lungs were just too fast and two weak, he was sure he was going to die. He knew rationally that no-one had ever died of a panic attack but maybe this time it wasn’t a panic attack, maybe it was a heart attack, his heart surely agreed.

He passed out.

Frankly the police were pretty pissed. They’d never been trained on how to act around someone like _that_ , let alone a child. It was tempting to arrest him for insubordination because he refused to go with them or answer questions. Tweek couldn’t hear anything except his own head. He simply hadn’t heard their commands to get in the car, that they needed to go to the station, he needed to answer questions.

In the end he was fine, that’s kind of the way with panic attacks, it’s like a huge wave. You feel like you’re drowning but eventually, you resurface, fucking _exhausted_ but alive. He was alive, he was fine. He had a drink and a snack from the vending machine inside the station. Eventually he answered their questions.

No, he didn’t know what he was picking up for his parents.

No, he didn’t know it was in the coffee.

Yes, they made him drink it.

Yes, he drank _a LOT_ of it.

Yes, he’d felt threatened by his parents before.

Yes, he’d been forced to work in their shop.

No, he wasn’t paid.

The questioning went on for hours, at least that's what it felt like, he was only 17 at the time so he was incredibly drained. Those were the statements he was most asked about, he had to keep explaining himself, again and again and again. At first, they didn’t seem to believe that he was ignorant to the whole thing. When they asked about his symptoms of drug abuse, he said that he had ADHD (and probably some anxiety disorder) and that he’d been like it his whole life.

Yes, he’s been drinking coffee since he was born.

_He’d been drinking it since he was a baby, at what point was the meth added? Had it been in there the whole time?_

He texted Craig, the one person that he could be sure he could trust, they’d been boyfriends for years after all, first as a lie and then as a truth. He loved Craig far more than he loved his parents and he knew that Craig would help. But what if Craig thought differently about him knowing about the drugs, about his parents? Or what if Craig blamed himself for having never noticed the symptoms of drug addiction in his boyfriend, despite the bi-annual drug awareness assemblies at their school.

He texted Craig. Craig came, after all he got a text at 11 O’clock at night from the love of his life, asking him to come to the police station, or more accurately:

“CRAIF PLEWASE COME TO THE SATATUION I REALLLY NEEDR YOU I DON’T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER THEIR QUIESTIONS AND IM GOONA GET ARRESTED AND IMM DIE OHGOD!”

Tweek had been crying and shaking unbearably, worse than usual. He spelling wasn’t good at the best of times but Craig had gotten mid-panic attack texts enough times to be able to understand it. The police station though? Tweek never got into trouble, unless Stan and his friends were involved. It was too late for that though, they hadn’t been playing super heroes that week either (they did still play, it was fun, who’s to judge really). It didn’t make sense.

So he got his dad to drive him to the station. Thomas had put up a bit of a fight but didn’t push too hard when he saw how stressed Craig was, his boyfriend NEEDED him and he needed to get there. No one in their family emoted often, especially not his son so he understood that it must have been for good reason. He sped the whole way there.

When Craig found Tweek, he was both relieved that he was alive and terrified about what had caused the other to be in such a stake, twitchy and unresponsive. He’d finished being questioned and lets just say, none of the officers were big on tact or comfort, they’d said nothing about what was going to happen to Tweek or his parents despite them presumably being in the same building somewhere. Craig was there though. Craig was there. He came. He came. He came.

Craig sat next to him and waited, Tweek would talk when he was able to and until then, he just needed to stay.

Thomas Tucker decided to go home, if his son needed him, he’d leave his phone’s mute off and he could just call. He wanted to go to sleep, tomorrow was another day grinding at work and he needed to have the energy. Craig would be fine as long as he didn’t flip off a police officer.

On 21st February XXXX, Tweek’s parents were both arrested on charges of drug possession, distribution, illegally drugging others and child abuse.

It was decided that Tweek was innocent, though convincing a judge that he truly didn’t know what the special ingredient was took the best lawyer he could get, Gerald Broflovski. 

Kyle very much took after his mother in terms of wanting justice and what he thought was right and when everyone at school found out about Tweek’s family, he had wanted to help. He pleaded and pleaded to his father and eventually he agreed, even knowing that he wouldn’t get much, if any money out of it. It was important to his son and the idea of a young boy going to prison for drug use he didn’t even know about did trouble him. He took the case and they won.

Tweek’s parents had tried to turn the case against him, claiming that he was behind it all and that he was aggressive and manipulative, it was a very weak defense though because very character witness against Tweek disagreed and he would have been far too young when they begun to know anything.

The Tweaks both went to prison but Tweek had one condition to his innocence, he had to go to rehab.

Rehab wasn’t that bad. He was there for two week coming off of the drugs at first. They gave him different, more controlled drugs to make sure that withdrawal didn’t kill him. It felt like it almost did, he had chills and was clammy and sweaty and at one point, had a seizure, which made his hospital stay much longer. His drug addiction was different to the other people’s there though, he’d never had a choice. It kind of angered him, all of these people had chosen their addiction, he was stuck. But he knew that those thoughts weren’t very kind so he never said it allowed.

They kept giving him drug tests for meth to make sure he didn’t “relapse”, which he thought was weird, why would he even want to ever consume it again? After going through withdrawals and being on new drugs for a while, which gave him even weirder symptoms, including weird cravings and hot flushes and irritability and anxiety. It was scary. It was scary being the youngest there too.

But it was better than the coffee. That’s why it wasn’t too bad, because it was better. And he knew that once he got out of hospital, he could start living life again, sure the drugs would have a long term effect on his body, that was unavoidable, but he was sure that it would be better, he was sure. The best part was that when he got out he knew that he was to be living with the Tuckers. None of his family had been willing to take him and so the Tuckers had stepped forward, which the police accepted because it was less work for them.

He knew he finally had a proper home to go to and that thought helped him get through the horrible withdrawal symptoms and the seizure and the feeling of losing all control of yourself. Knowing your parents had turned against you in a desperate attempt to hide years of child abuse which you hadn’t even realised was child abuse was a lot to take in. It was difficult to cope.

But Craig was there, he visited when he was allowed and when Tweek was feeling up to it, he told him stories of their friends and while part of him missed it all, another was glad to avoid some of the weird shit they got wrapped up in. Token, Jimmy and Clyde visited too sometimes. So did Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Butters occasionally, Kyle to basically clear up any final things from his dad and Kenny to apologise for not explaining what he meant that night. It was nice knowing that people cared about him, even if he was equally aware that people like Cartman were at school spreading rumors about him and telling others that he was dirty or crazy or that he’d been sent to a “Loony bin”.

He didn’t look forward to going back to that. But after the horrible pain he’d experienced in hospital, he could probably manage anything.

And he still had Craig.

Mr and Mrs Tucker were alright, a little gruff but nice, after all they were taking him in. They gave him a home.

A few years later, they would help him deal with his parents attempting to contact him, they changed their landline without even being asked to. They both loved their son even if they weren’t very good at expressing it, caring for Tweek was one way that they could, after all, Craig cared about him. Plus having a gay kid made them seem progressive.

Fifteen years later and things were surprisingly still pretty much the same. Craig had studied mechanical engineering at a local college and Tweek had taken theater - They’re fight when they were ten had given Tweek a lot of confidence in his acting abilities and he found that he could really enjoy pretending to be someone else for a while, so he made it his job. They lived together in a town a few miles away from South Park, far enough away that they could finally feel like they were living alone and independent but close enough that they both felt safe. Craig didn’t like changes in routine and Tweek hated travel.

Things were okay, Tweek hadn’t touched any hard drugs since he was 17, though they’d both had a phase in their early twenties of smoking a lot of weed which had lessened over the years and now was just an occasional treat. It had been more difficult than he’d first thought, whenever he was particularly stressed his mind would always wander back to that coffee and how it made him feel like he could breathe again, it made him feel in control when really it was slowly destabilising him. That’s another reason why they moved, so Tweek wouldn’t even know where to get meth but they could still get in contact with the guy who sold them weed - None other than Kenny McCormick, of course. Kenny would never sell him anything other than weed.

But then there was a party. It was an after show party, his show that was properly bigger than local theater, he was an undeniably skilled actor but his tics made getting cast in shows quite difficult unless he was type case for said tics. The tics and twitching had lessened over the years but never truly gone away but Tweek was succeeding despite it. And it was his first big show and his first big cast party.

Craig had come to the show but said that he wouldn’t be able to go to the party with him afterwards, which Tweek was okay with, he wasn’t sure if he was allowded a plus one anyway considering he hadn’t played a main character.

The house the party was at was large, real large and almost as fancy as Token’s, it screamed “I’m rich and pretentious!” but the music was pounding and people were mulling around the garden and in and out of the door casually. It was his first big party but he needed to know, hell, maybe he could pluck up the courage to network a bit. God he was so scared.

Tweek could perform on stage no problem but this, this was awful. Even fifteen years later, the thoughts of _just having a little of my parents’ coffee_ still entered his head when stressed. But he was fine, he was clean and he liked it that way. He’d made a lot of progress with his anxiety disorder and if he entered the house and he couldn’t manage, he could leave, he promised himself. Everything was okay.

_God I wish Craig could have come._

He entered the house, slipped into the streams of people like traffic and made his way down the hallway. It was fancy inside and out it seemed, the interior decor mixed modern and Victorian Gothic perfectly but was juxtaposed with the rap music blaring from the speakers and the flashing lights and bodies pressing against bodies. It was all too much. But he could cope. He could cope.

Until he couldn’t.

Because in the kitchen, sat some people he recognised and some people he didn’t, pipes in hand. At first he thought it was just weed but then the _smell_ hit him like a title-wave, it smelt like the weird bitterness of _their coffee._ It was meth. It was meth. It was meth.

He stopped dead in his tracks, both his body and mind had just stopped. He couldn’t cope with it, he just couldn’t, because he knew, he knew that it would make his head feel so much better, take the edge off, make a cast party, turned huge party a bearable experience.

They were looking at him, all looking at him, a freak stood dead still in the doorway, blank eyes, frozen in space.

And then one guy, high and slurring his words joked “you want to join us?” and they all laughed.

No.

No.

_No I don’t I can’t I can’t_

_Please stop please I don’t_

_Make the smell stop I can taste it_

_The shaking and the feeling in my head_

_It never stopped_

_It never stopped_

_Please._

Tweek was on the floor, he dropped like a stone, crying and pulling his hair out, just like the _good ol’ days,_ just like when the _coffee_ made his head stop working, where the only thing I could feel was pain and all he could hear was ringing, ringing, ringing.

Eventually, a sober cast member found him on the floor, everyone else was either too high or drunk to care or just didn’t want to deal with him, not on their night of celebration. And they moved him to the front garden, where it was quieter, eventually, they called Craig for him, when Tweek could eventually communicate that that’s what he needed.

Just like that night fifteen years ago, Craig headed over right away, he had already been anxious, knowing that, while Tweek could cope better now, he still had panic attacks and got overwhelmed very easily, and he hadn’t heard from him since he left for the party.

Craig took Tweek home, helped him have something to eat and drink. Tweek couldn’t say anything.

He passed out at their kitchen table and Craig moved him too their bed and slept the night on the floor, he didn’t want to risk waking him by getting into bed too and he didn’t want to sleep on the sofa incase Tweek woke up in the middle of the night an panicked at his absence.

Eventually, the next morning, he found out what had happened. Craig woke up earlier than Tweek, which wasn’t abnormal, he made himself some toast and a cup of tea and was on his phone, looking at NASA’s recent instagram posts when Tweek came into the room.

“You look awful,” Craig observed, trying to make sure that it sounded like concern, which it was, rather than critisism.

“I-I’m sorry. About last night. I’m sorry,” Tweek looked down as his feet, wearing the same socks that he had worn the last night, meaning that he hadn’t gotten changed yet, except from taking his jacket off.

“It’s okay. What happened?”

Tweek didn’t respond, which made Craig panic, jesus christ, what if it was really bad, what if something had happened to him last night, he’d managed to stay fairly calm by assuring himself that it was probably just a panic attack or sensory overload or something due to all the people, something he could understand. The look on his boyfriend’s face though, told a different story.

“There was meth at the party Craig, I’m sorry,” he started crying again, “I didn’t do anything but I really wanted to and it smelt so much and I remembered everything my parents did and I remembered picking up their packages and every cup I drank oh god Graig how did I not know, how was I so stupid - GAAAK!”

“Oh honey,” Craig stood up and hugged his crying partner, gently rubbing circles against his back while sobs racked his body, “I’m proud of you for not doing anything, I’m sorry that you were exposed to that, you must feel awful”

Tweek only “hmm”ed in response and his crying slowly calmed down till they were just standing in _their_ kitchen, holding each other. They were both okay, everything was okay. Everything was okay.

Despite being so so tired, Tweek turned to Craig and smilied, he was okay.

“You really are the best boyfriend in the world,” Tweek’s voice was weak but hopeful, sure everything was kind of shit, his first cast party had turned into a nightmare and he felt like he’d never be able to escape his parent’s and what they did to him but Craig was there to help him pick up the pieces.

“Well, I was wondering if maybe I could be the best husband in the world?” _fuck_ Craig hadn’t meant to say it, he hadn’t, he wanted it to be more romantic, he didn’t want to ride the coat-tail of his love’s emotional trauma.

Tweek was taken aback, sure they’d talked about marriage, maybe it was for them, eventually but this came out of no-where, it felt right though, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m asking to marry you,” typical Craig bluntness, Tweek loved it.

Tweek started crying again, he really needed a drink or he would end up dehydrated, he was so fucking happy. He screamed.

He screamed and he jumped up and down and cried and cried and cried. His face hurt so fucking much because of smiling.

“YES!”

“Great”

Maybe as a couple they seemed odd, lethargic and emotionally different but they worked together perfectly, they understood each other perfectly and they were going to last forever. They were a unit and they were stronger as a unit. Perfect. 


End file.
